


Party Gags

by Music_Boxx



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Music_Boxx/pseuds/Music_Boxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Kraemer is a struggling comedian in Gotham, living in a small apartment with his wife, Amy, and his young daughter Nikki. Peter often suffers from psychotic episodes, making it near impossible to get and keep a job. Often fighting with his wife, he seeks closure in the crime filled streets, finding solace in his thoughts, though they are often filled with horrors that drive Peter closer to insanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Buried Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'll probably be posting these in four parts each chapter, and since I plan on having it made into a short comic series, the chapters have to be somewhat shorter. So, since I don't want to disappoint you with short chapters, I've uploaded all of my complete work for you to read. I hope you guys enjoy it!

     The world around me spun, my feet hardly even able to find solid ground and I nearly fell countless times as I searched for the people that once surrounded me. Masses of people that once flooded the streets and dirty alley ways had vanished in moments. It was like that had never existed. A symphony of screams surrounded me, ringing from the mouths of a million invisible children. My attempts at relief from the noise, though useless, continued throughout the fit of terror. My entire body began shaking, my teeth chattering almost as loudly as the screaming. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, a warning sign that something was completely wrong. I spun around, and behind me stood a man, large and muscled. His body was black, as if covered in tar, though a light shone through where his eyes would be, glowing an eerie white-ish yellow. I have seen this man before, but never this close. He was always standing behind windows or lost in a sea of people. But here he was, standing merely three feet away from me. It was close enough to feel the arctic air radiating from him and the rancid smell of death surrounding the area near him. He stepped closer, his body moving slowly as if every movement was agonizingly difficult. A grin that could have chilled even the bravest man spread across his face, nearly to the pointed, bat-like ears that sat atop his head. Black goo seeped from between his lips, spilling down his face and onto the pavement below. As it hit the ground, the jelly-like liquid made a disgustingly loud sizzling noize, and smelled like burning flesh. The creature lunged for me, his tree-trunk arms wrapping around my body, black goo making its way onto my face and neck, my skin burning away like paper. I screamed louder than I thought I ever could, the air clawing its way out of my lungs and escaping through gritted teeth. My flesh sizzled, and as the acid burnt through my skin, a charcoal odor filled the air around me. Muscle cracked and popped like popcorn at a movie theater, the smell of beef and fatty pork mixing with the charcoal. I suddenly remembered something that I thought I would have forgotten. I learned in school that burning muscle gives of a beef like smell when it was burning. _Oh shit,_ I thought, _how am_ _I even alive?_ I didn’t think that I could survive much longer, maybe a few minutes at the most, but this creature seemed to have other plans. Black spots danced at the edge of my vision, and I knew I would soon pass out, a heavenly escape from the hellish torture that was taking place. My body went limp, bones peeking out from beneath the charred muscle. Of course, I could still feel the fire that was burning me from the inside out, but at this point I guess I was just too far gone. I could feel my body starting to shake again, though this time, it actually was from the cold. An eerie chill surrounded me, though it did nothing to cool the heat surrounding me like a blanket. I forced my eyes open, mentally begging for the creature to have mercy, to forgive me for the sins that must have caused this. _No,_ I told myself, _the Devil is not merciful._ The monster dropped me to the pavement, my body creating a dull, empty thud that echoed off the buildings and through the streets. And as the creature walked away, something bubbled up inside my chest, and I started to laugh.

-

      Noise flowed around me, a sea of bodies huddled around my limp form. I shook violently, suddenly threatened by the mass amounts of people around me. I did my best to search through my mind and piece together what happened, but I was drawing blanks. Was everything before me a dream? Frantically, I pulled my hand up to my face and carefully inspected it. Pale skin stretched over lean muscle and bone, and was relatively clear except for a few scrapes that I could assume were from my fall. Trying to push myself to my knees, I felt several pairs of hands grab at my arms and shoulders to help pull me up. My head spun around like an owl’s, desperately searching for the oil man. Despite my height, it was difficult to see through the masses of people. Several voices murmured their condolences and worries to me, though I waved them off and quickly explained that it was a normal occurrence before hurrying through the gathering of early-rising civilians and towards my home. I pushed my way down the streets, and though there was virtually no one, spare a few joggers and businessmen, claustrophobia threatened to choke me like an anaconda, slowly squeezing the life out of me.

     My breath came in short gasps, and it felt like an eternity before I reached the apartment building where my small, two bedroom apartment was located. I pushed the doors open, grunting as if I was trying to move a boulder. Though it was a bit of a struggle, especially in my weak state, I was finally able to force the door open and stumble into the lobby. Though only a few children loitered in the lobby, they looked at me as if I was drunk.

     “You okay, Mr…..” The man sitting at the desk asked, looking over his computer with dark, concerned eyes.

      “Barker, Peter Barker,” I added, shuffling up to the desk and clinging to it like it was a life support. “I’m fine, thank you. I’m just getting over the flu,” I lied, something I have had to do more often than I would like lately. “You must be new here. I heard that the old guy got fired for harassing some girl. Do you know anything about that?” I asked, figuring he wouldn’t, but to my surprise, he nodded eagerly as if excited to tell the story.

     “My brother is the cop that arrested the creep. Said he walked in on the guy trying to get the girl to drop her pants or some crazy shit like that,” He explained, careful to make sure the children who were obviously listening in wouldn’t hear. “Said the guy got hell for it, too. Serves him right. Creeps like that don’t deserve to walk on these streets,” The man at the desk rambled, occasionally looking at me to make sure that I was listening, which I was, though I couldn’t help but zone out and think of the girl. I had seen her sitting in the lobby the night it happened. The desk man was nowhere in sight, though he was often seen out back doing cocaine or heroin or some other shit like that. The dude was a total mess, and it’s a surprise he didn’t get fired earlier.

     Shifting my weight, I ran a hand through my hair, black tufts peeking through my fingers. My hair usually stuck up every which way, despite my attempts to brush it. My wife always yelled at me for it, saying I should get a haircut because I looked like a dirty hobo, to which I would always respond with a laugh, some stupid joke about how that’s what I basically was, and a kiss on the cheek.

     “You sure you’re okay?” The man at the desk asked, which is when I wasn't totally 'there'.

     I forced out a laugh, explaining that it happened often. Worrying that my wife would get too pissed of if I stayed out any longer, I excused myself and shuffled towards the elevator that would take me to my fifth story apartment. Normally I would take the stairs, but in my post-psychotic state, I didn’t think that I could handle more than a few stairs at a time. After all, it was difficult enough to keep myself standing as the elevator pulled me up five stories to my floor. The doors opened, and I walked out, making my way down a few halls before I reached my apartment.

     I pushed open the door, stumbling in and forcing it shut behind me. My wife, Amy, sat in the tattered old armchair in the corner of the room, a blanket covering her lap and a book in her hands. Watching her, I smiled and remembered why I married her, how I looked forward to waking up to that beautiful face every morning, and having it be the last thing I see before I went to sleep. I still do, and I think that I always will. The years have visibly aged her, and though gracefully, you could see the lines under her eyes that symbolized her countless sleepless nights and exhausting days. It was only minutes later that she looked up from her book and rested her eyes on me, her eyebrows drawing together in concern. I hated that look, the one she gave me when she knew I was having problems. I tried to keep my concerns out of her mind, knowing that it would only give her more restless nights.

     “Where were you?” She asked, her anger melting away to fear when she saw the cuts and scrapes on my arms. “Was it another episode?” She asked quietly, closing her book and pushing the blanket off her legs. She got up, moving closer to further inspect the shallow cuts on my forearms. I looked down and smiled, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

     “That doesn’t matter, I’m fine,” I told her, a familiar warmth spreading through me when I saw her face relax. I bent down, pressing my lips to hers briefly before stepping back. “Is Nikki in bed already?” I asked, and my wife nodded, leading me to the second bedroom. The light was off, though you could see the several stuffed animals that surrounded the small girl in bed. I walked in, sitting on the side of the bed and rested my hand on her shoulder. She stirred slightly, but remained sleeping.

     “She was hoping you would be back before it was time for her to go to bed,” Amy said, almost accusingly, as I kissed Nikki’s forehead and walked out of the room, closing the door carefully so that I wouldn’t wake up.

     “Amy, I passed out on the street in the middle of the street while I was walking home. There wasn’t much that I could do!” I growled, struggling to keep my temper at bay. Ever since the episodes started getting worse, my temper had as well, resulting in multiple fights with Amy, and several terrified looks from Nikki, who was too young to even understand what was going on. Guilt swarmed inside me like millions of insects crawling beneath my skin. I hated arguing with my wife, but my temper had somehow always managed to get the best of me, and always resulted in me snapping at Amy or Nikki, and then guilt forcing me out of the apartment for another night of solitude. It was a deal I had made with myself when I first fought with Amy, and how I promised myself I would never do it again. I guess that didn’t work out, though.

     “At least I’m actually providing for this family, Pete! What do do? Go tell jokes at a bar for a couple of drunks? What are you doing with your life, Peter? You are destroying this family!” Amy spat, her wide eyes swallowed in anger and hatred. I recoiled, an ache in my chest swelling, my face distorted in disgust, which I would often use to mask my pain.

     “I’m trying my best, Amelia! I can’t get any other job with my condition, no one will take me! You know that!” I howled, lunging in her face, my green eyes narrowed, muscles tensed as if I was about to strike her, and as much as I wanted to, I could never live with the guilt that I would feel afterwards. My chest heaving, I pulled away from her, backing towards the door.

     “If you go through that door, you better not come back!”

-

     I slammed on the button that would take me down to the lobby, my breath uneven and short. My body shook from anger, a headache blossoming behind my eyes. I pinched the bridge of my nose, leaning against the wall as the elevator took me down to the lobby, where I would walk through the doors for probably the last time. The thought brought on another wave of stress, crashing over me like a wave in the ocean. A groan escaped from my teeth, as if that would make things any better. It wasn’t until moments later that I noticed another man had stepped into the elevator. He was wearing a suit and tie, a briefcase in his left hand, his right hand in his pants pocket. His hair, wavy and black, was long enough to be pushed behind his ears, which held up glasses that rested on his face. Overall, he seemed like a very charming man, probably in his late twenties or early thirties, but with all the cosmetics these days, he could be forty and look like he just got out of college. He turned to me and smiled, his eyebrows pinching together when he noticed the expression on my face.

     “You look stressed out. Did you have a bad day?” The young man asked, tilting his head slightly to one side.

     I let out a dry laugh, “You don’t know the half of it.”

     “I know we’ve only just met, but since we’re going to be here awhile, would you like to talk about it?” He asked, his voice smooth and calm, like he was some sort of therapist. _Maybe that’s what the briefcase is for,_ I thought, watching him closely. Thinking about what he said, I noticed that the elevator wasn’t moving, and that the number above the door was now replaced by a red dash. _Fantastic. Just what I need._

     “I got in a fight with my wife and she kicked me out,” I muttered, still staring at the red dash. “I can’t get a job because of a medical condition and she bitches at me because I can’t provide for the family.” I turned to the man, and I noticed that he was watching me with great interest, which was odd, since the only time I ever had someone stare at me like that is when I’ve had a psychotic fit in the middle of the sidewalk while walking somewhere. This guy, though, seemed genuinely interested in what I was saying, which lightened the feeling of hopelessness in my gut.

     “Sounds like you’d be better off without her,” The man said, almost sympathetically. Almost.

     “ That’s what I was thinking, I’m just worried about my daughter,” I rambled, watching the stranger carefully. You could never be too cautious about who you talked to these days.

     He smiled, making him look even younger than he already was. It was one that you could trust, that could convince a man to rob a bank if there was a good reason. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Her father seems like a good enough man.”

     The words brought a smile to my face, something that hasn’t happened in the longest time.

     The elevator gave a dangerous lurch before it started moving again, lowering us to the lobby. “I never caught your name,” I mentioned, looking at the man again. He turned back to me and smiled brighter, pulling one hand out of his pocket and holding it out to me. I shook it, and he handed me a card with a phone number on it.

     “Dr. Jonathan Crane, and yourself?”

     “Peter Kraemer”

-

     I walked down the littered street, the lights providing almost no light, which only caused my anxiety to rise. Though I wasn’t very afraid of the goons that slithered around in the night, I disliked lurking around in the middle of the night. Boredom often made me anxious in fear that I would do something rash and irreversible. Though, in the darkness of the allies and high buildings with no one but criminals to see, who would care? I had no hope, I had no home, nothing to live for. How did I end up like this? I saw no future for myself, and as I roamed the streets, I thought. I thought of my family, how strong Amy was, and how beautiful Nikki was. They have so much potential, but I was just holding them back, wasn’t I? A noise that sounded like it could have been a growl escaped my throat, which quickly faded off into a soft gurgle, like there was something caught in my throat. I coughed, trying to clear my throat, but it was getting harder to breathe. I searched for a wall to lean on, but my hand fell through empty space. My balance wavered, and I landed on my knees, the entire earth seemingly pressing down on me. I opened my mouth to cough again, but all that escaped was the same rancid black goo that had burned me alive. _Oh shit, oh shit, I’m going to die._ I thought, my chest heaving as more of the jelly-like substance escaped from my throat, leaving an invisible flame to burn me from the inside out.

     Finally, after what seemed like eternity, I was able to breathe again. I sucked in a lungful of air, letting it escape in a quivering scream. My shoulders shook violently in a sob, fading off into the nothingness that surrounded me.

     As I calmed down, I found my footing and pushed myself up, turning in circles to try and find some sort of landmark to tell me where I am, though the only thing I could see was a strange light off in the distance. I decided that my best option, my only option really, was to find out what the source of that was. _Oh god, am I dying?_ I wondered to myself, a terrified shudder running down my spine. _If I’m dying, then I can get a new start, right? I don’t have to_ _make the mistakes I made the first time. But what if I’m not given a second chance? What if I’m going somewhere worse where I’m going to be punished? Or what if I’m just_ _going to be walking for forever? What if I can’t actually get to the light?_ If I kept thinking about it, I figured, I would go mad. “I suppose I’m already mad, aren’t I?” I laughed, finding it hilarious that I was talking to myself.

     Hours must have passed, or maybe it was days, who knows? I was still trying to walk towards the light, but now noises were starting to echo from the darkness. I spoke over them, but every time I did they would get louder and louder, demanding to be heard. So desperate to block out the noises, I began screaming at the top of my lungs, begging the noises to go away.

     And one day, they did.

     The silence was so strange, so alien, it made my skin crawl and my stomach flop. I disliked the quiet, and no matter how often I talked to myself or how loud my voice was, it would never make me feel any better.

     I ran a hand down my face, my palm coming away wet with tears. When did I start crying? I never even noticed the tears escaping my eyes and falling down my face. What was I crying about? I couldn’t even remember? Was it my wife? What was her name again? Or my daughter? How could I forget their names? I couldn’t even remember what they looked like. What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe this is what my punishment was. Maybe I was just going to walk for forever, eventually becoming a shell of a man, a lost soul that didn’t even know his own name. The thought terrified me, and I started running, trying to escape the panic that began to rise in my chest. My breath came in short gasps, though I never stopped running, too afraid that my demons would catch up with me.

     “Hey, wake up man! What’chu doin’ on the ground like that?” The voice shook me from my trance-like state, forcing me back into reality. I was on the ground, my face sore and freezing from the pavement. I pushed myself back up to my feet and faced the man. He was short, though his muscle made up for it. He had dark hair and darker eyes, which watched me carefully despite my weak state.

     “Where the hell am I?” Was the only thing I could think to say, as it was something I had to speak more often than I liked.

     “Still in Gotham, man. Just not the place a dude like you belongs in,” the short man said, nodding to himself as if he took pride in living in the trashy, run down outskirts of the once great city.

     I laughed, looking the man in the eyes, my voice lowering to a soft whisper. “I’m not exactly who you think I am,” I warned him, and what was once a hiss moments before was now replaced by a laugh, filled with madness and hatred and desperation. The noise echoed through the streets, and in the dark, damp streets, it really set the mood as the sound of a gunshot exploded in the street.

-

     I stood over the body of the small man that woke me from my previously unconscious state. Blood pooled around him, a large hole in his chest. His eyes, once glittering like black ice, were now dull and gray, like murky water. I was too fixated on his body to notice the man with the gun stepping closer to me. He watched me closely with dark eyes hidden behind a black mask carved into the shape of a skull. There was something odd about the mask, like it was a living thing. I knew I seemed ridiculous, but the mask gave me a strange feeling in my gut, making my skin crawl and the hair on the back of my neck rise.

     “Who the hell are you?” I hissed, my face twisted in disgust and confusion. The man hidden behind the mask laughed, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

     “I don’t think it really matters who I am. Stay here long enough, and you’ll find out,” He said, almost like he was boasting. “All that matters now is who you are, and who you’re going to be. If you’re going to survive out here, then you’re going to have to get with the right people. You understand, right?” He asked, though something told me it wasn’t much of a question. Instead of saying anything, which probably would have been a very bad idea, I nodded, which I guess was a signal for him to continue talking.

     “That’s what I thought. Now, there are plenty of people you could go crawling to, but they won’t get you anywhere. If you let me help you, I can put you on top. I can make you feared and respected, someone everyone wants to be. Are you willing to take that risk?” The stranger asked, and the way he said it made it seem like I had no option. I gritted my teeth, weighing my chances. I figured I had nothing much to lose, and if something went wrong, I could always just shoot this guy, right? _Woah,_ I thought, _where did that come from. Don’t let these people get to you. You can’t sink down to their level. You’re better than them. Right?_

     Figuring that I had better chances with this guy, I nodded, a devious grin spreading across my lips.

      “Smart man, you are. Tell me, what do they call you?” He asked, and by the way his voice sounded, I could tell he was smiling.

     “Um…” I muttered, wondering if I should just tell him my real name. I didn’t have any other options, so I just told him, “My name’s Pete.” His response at first was a simple huff, which I’m sure was of disappointment.

     “Well,” He muttered, talking more to himself than me, “I guess we’ll just work with that for now.” Reaching underneath his jacket, he pulled out a second gun. My body tensed, thinking that he was going to shoot me. Instead, he turned it so I would be grabbing the handle of the gun. “You’re going to need this if you plan on staying here,” He explained, his dark eyes glittering oddly in the early morning light.

     I grabbed the weapon, tucking it safely in the waistband of my jeans. The man in the black mask laughed, clapping me on the back with a confident laugh. “I knew you would make the right choice,” He declared, leading me around the corner and down the street, to god knows where.

     Was I safe? Who knows.

     Was I scared? Of course.

     But that’s life, right?


	2. Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my shitty ass smut. Yeah, I'm not good at that. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

   

     The man sat in the alley way watching the two men converse. He payed close attention to the one with the black hair. He looked at Sionis with a conflicting expression, one that clearly showed that he was new here, and he was, for sure. The man in the alley laughed softly, he was sure that this man wouldn’t last long here, he looked more like a family man, not a criminal. Though, the man thought about the first time he got here, how no one thought he would make it, how he got no help. Why did this stranger get Sionis’ attention when he just got here? Did he think he could just walk in and take control. The man gritted his teeth, his grip around the cane he carried getting tighter and tighter, and if it were not made of metal, he feared it would have snapped by now. A hiss escaped through clenched teeth, his eyes narrowing as he watched the man walk away with Sionis.

     It wasn’t fair, the man had already claimed this stranger, and that rat Sionis just strolls in and thinks he can take him away like that? No, it wasn’t fair. The stranger was his, and now Sionis was going to regret stealing him.

     Then again, the stranger did willingly leave with Sionis, so doesn’t that make him equally guilty?

     Though, the stranger didn’t know he was already claimed. He had never experienced this way of life, so how was he to know that he was claimed? Of course, he wouldn’t, and he didnt’t. Still, didn’t he have to pay for not even thinking about who he was going with?

     No, it wasn’t fair that this man left without even thinking about being claimed. The man in the alley smiled like a kid in a candy store.

     The man slipped out from between the two buildings and down the streets that the stranger had traveled, tracing his steps until the man was in the center, wealthier part of Gotham. The sun was just starting to rise, and though the streets were relatively clear, the man was careful to stay where he could be seen, paranoia making his mind race, urging him to walk faster and faster, until he was nearly running. The few early birds that roamed the streets were staring at him like he was some sort of madman. Though, that was the case, wasn’t it? The man let out a breathless laugh, gasping for air as he finally reached the building he was looking for.

     It was an old, run down apartment building with an awning, as if that would distract passerby’s from the crumbling stone and faded paint.

     The man pushed the doors open, which were stiff and nearly motionless from the rust. The man groaned, green suit jacket pulling tight against his back as he pushed the door open. As he strolled into the lobby of the building, his eyes slid over to the man seated at the desk. _He would know where the man’s family lives_ , he figured, swinging his cane around as he walked over to the desk.

     “Excuse me,” The man said, looking at the employee at the desk, and when the worker didn’t look up, the man felt agitation prickling in his stomach. “I said, excuse me,” He hissed, louder than before in an attempt to get the workers attention. This time, the man did look up.

     “Can I help you?” the worker asked, sounding extremely irritated.

     Though agitated, the stranger asked, “I’m looking for the Kraemer family. Can you tell me where their room is?”

     The desk man looked at him oddly, “Why do you want to see ‘em?”

     “Family friend,” Was all the man said.

     Seemingly satisfied with the answer, the man at the desk gave him directions on how to get up to the room, and as the stranger in the green suit strolled over to the elevator, he passed a young man in a suit carrying a briefcase. As if recognizing the green suited man, the younger of the two turned and started to follow him into the elevator. The doors closed, and the two men turned to glare at each other.

     “Nigma.”

     “Crane.”

 

-

 

     “What are you doing here, Crane?” I hissed, looking at the doctor from beneath the brim of my hat, which casted a dark shadow over my face.

     Crane watched me carefully, though a welcoming smile spread across his lips.”Same reason you’re here, I’m guessing,” He countered, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, just barely noticeable. “To find the Kraemer family, right?” He asked, though he knew he was right.  

     The doctor was right, of course, I was searching for the Kraemer family, but something told me that they were searching out the family for different reasons. “As always, doctor,” I groaned, turning towards the doors as they opened on the fifth floor.

     “Which hallway was it?” Crane asked, the young, childish light replacing the dark look that had filled his eyes. “I wasn’t really paying attention when the man at the desk gave me directions,” Crane rambled, seemingly thinking that I actually cared whether he remembered or not, and why.

     Knowing that Crane would just follow me, I grumbled a soft “left” and began walking down the hallway fast enough so that there was a considerably large distance between Crane and me when he reached the door. I quickly banged on the door, begging that someone would answer. After what seemed like eternity, a woman with dark blond hair pulled open the door with a weary sigh.

     “Look, Pete, I’m really not interested in letting you back in. I’ve already talked to Nikki about it, and I’m filing for divorce tomorrow,” She sighed, looking at the ground. Obviously she hadn’t realized that it wasn’t her husband standing at the door.

     “Listen, Ma’am, you have to let me in. This guy’s been following me since I’ve been walking home for work. He’s just down the hallway, you have to help me!” I gasped out, grabbing her shoulders with a desperate look on my face. She looked up and sucked in a surprised breath, worry tainting her face.

     She nodded quickly, pulling me inside and slamming the door behind me. “Are you okay?” She asked, still holding onto my arms as I regained my balance.

     “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” I promised, smiling. “Thank you so much for letting me inside,” I told her, standing up straighter and looking around the small apartment. “Do you live here alone?” I asked, irritation peaking when the woman explained that her daughter lived with her, though she wasn’t here. I growled softly, though I forced a small smile, knowing that I needed to gain this womans trust.

     “Would you like something to eat or drink?” Mrs.Kraemer asked, leading me into the living room of the small apartment and gesturing towards the couch. I took a seat, removing hat hat and resting my cane against the arm of the couch.

     “Coffee, if you could, please,” I asked, nodding to her. I then then glanced to the door, seeing the shadows of feet creeping under the door. _Think again, Scarecrow. This family is mine._ I thought, narrowing my eyes at the door and smiling as the shadow moved away. I reached into his jacket pocket and wrapped my hand around the switchblade that I had picked up before leaving his small home to track down the stranger and his family.

    “I hope you like creamer,” Mrs.Kraemer said, shocking me from my thoughts. I released the blade and reached for the mug.

     “That’s fine. Thank you very much,” I told her, taking a sip of the drink. The woman sat in the chair across from me and watched me carefully, though not like she was afraid, more like she was intrigued. Sipping the coffee, letting the warm drink relax my nerves. I was just starting to get used to the silence when she spoke up.

     “So, do you know the guy that was following you?” She asked, setting the mug on the worn table sitting between the two of them and leaning forward slightly. Looking closely, I could see that despite the lines around her mouth and eyes, she was surprisingly beautiful.

     “Well,” I shrugged, “We’ve run into each other enough times to get to know each other. Just not under any pleasant circumstances,” I explained resting my elbows on my knees and taking another sip of the coffee. She watched me with interest, and I noticed how she hadn’t even touched her mug after setting it down.

     “So why is he following you?” She asked me, shifting so she was sitting on the edge of the chair, which seemed slightly odd.

     I shifted my weight and shrugged, laughing softly. “Who knows, I think he escaped from Arkham Asylum or something,” I explained, finishing my coffee and setting the cup on the table. Mrs.Kraemer stood up and grabbed the cup, picking up her own on the way to the kitchen. I watched her walk away, smiling to myself. _Why would did I ever give this up?_ I asked myself, leaning back and resting my arms on the back of the couch. I closed my eyes and listened to her walk back into the living room. I felt the cushion shift beside me, and a hand on my chest. I let out a soft breath, leaning my head back. It’s been so long since I felt like this that I forgot how to respond to it. I turned and looked at her, running my hand down her face with a small smile.  She leaned closer, pressing her lips against mine. I grabbed her hips and pulled her onto my lap, slipping my hands under her shirt. I ran my hands up her back, pulling her shirt up over her head and tossing it to the floor. She muttered something and pulled her hands through my hair, pushing my head forward.

     “Follow me,” She whispered, pulling me up of the couch and leading me into her bedroom. I threw my jacket off, tripping as I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my belt. I pushed her down onto the bed, wrapping her legs around my waist. She pulled her hands out of my hair and starts to unbutton my vest, pulling it off and throwing it on the floor, the rest of our clothes quickly following. I ran my hands along her sides and around her back, my chest heaving. A warm feeling blossomed in my stomach, my breath catching in my throat. I pulled her closer, our bodies pressing together, wanting to be as close as possible.

     “MOMMY?” I heard a young girl call, followed by a door slamming shut.

     “Shit,” Amy hissed, shifting so that she could look over my shoulder and through the door. I pushed myself off of the bed, searching for my close before the young girl got to the bedroom. I pulled on my pants and shirt, tossing clothes to Amy as I pulled my shoes and jacket on. “Hurry up and  get out of here,” She hissed, pulling on her bra, underwear, and pants before pushing me out of the room. I grabbed my hat and cane, smiling at the young girl before slipping out of the apartment.

     As I walked down the hallway towards the elevator, I rubbed my neck, fingers brushing over the purple mark on my neck. I moved my jacket in an attempt to cover the mark, hoping that I wouldn’t run into Crane on my way down to the lobby.

     The good thing is that I didn’t find Crane.

      The bad thing was hearing Amy’s screams as the elevators door closed.

 

-

 

     I banged on the doors, my stomach falling as the elevator started lowering me to the lobby. A voice boomed from the speakers on the ceiling of the elevator.

     “Hey there, Eddy boy!” A voice howled, making me cringe and cover my ears with my hands. Something about that voice sounded familiar. The way it rose and fell on certain words, though it spiked my memory, I couldn’t figure out exactly whose it was. I thought back to the alley way, and the two men talking, about the one I had claimed. What was his name though?

      “Peter,” I gasped, an amazed grin dancing across my lips.

     The voice on the speakers laughed, a hideous, scratching noise. “Not anymore, Eddy boy!” The voice proclaimed, that horrible laugh echoing through the speakers.  “You can call me the Joker now, Eddy boy!” The voice howled, going on to further explain how he got the name. “Sionis says I was the funniest guy there!” the Joker boasted, and I could almost see him throwing his arms around in glee. “He said he wouldn’t have any joker business in his place,” the Joker explained. “So,” He continued, “I shot him!” the Joker proclaimed, his declaration followed by a hideous laugh. “I can tell you’re so worried by this, but don’t be. He’s not dead! At least not yet,” the Joker added, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl.

     “Why do I care if he’s dead or not,” I muttered, leaning against the door of the elevator. I didn’t figure that the Joker would care, so I laughed softly at his loss for words. “Riddle me this, Joker. What 5 letter word can be rearranged 3 different times to get 3 different words each containing 1 more syllable than the last? The word has no duplicates of letters.”

     “Do you think that this is some sort of game, Eddy boy?” The Joker hissed, his voice lowering into a dangerous growl. “I will find you, and I will hurt you myself!” He threatened, and I could hear something smashing in the background. A moment later, the speaker went silent and the elevator started to move once more. I quickly slammed on the button that would take me back to the fifth floor and paced around the elevator anxiously. The doors opened after seemingly forever, and I sprinted down the hallway and to the door of the apartment. I banged my fist against the door over and over and over, but they went unreplied. Panic rising, I backed up and threw myself at the door, falling forward onto the floor. The sight in front of me was one of a horror movie. I gagged, the smell of blood and gas swarming into my nose and choking me.

     I heaved, scrambling to get to the bathroom toilet. I pushed open the lid, throwing up anything I ate during the day. Getting off the floor and washing my hands and mouth, I walked into the living room and looked around. I was smarter than this, I could easily figure out who was here, when, and how they got in, but why couldn’t I think? The room spun, and I could hear the sounds of a million wasps filling the room. _Oh shit, oh shit, not now_ , I thought, sucking in as much air as I could, though it felt like I was breathing in mud. I clawed at my throat, gasping for air.

     “What’s the matter, Riddler? Can’t think straight?” A voice asked, seemingly booming from every atom in the room. I howled, my body shaking with terror.

     “Who the hell are you? What are you doing to me?!” I howled, looking around wildly for the source of the voice, but I couldn’t see anything except blurs of colors and things that looked like centipedes crawling from the cracks in the walls.

     “I’m afraid you won’t like the answers if I tell you,” The voice said, and suddenly he was moving, being pulled out of the room by some force that he could not see. I was pulled into the elevator, the doors closing and the button for the basement lighting up. The elevator lurched and started to move.

Where was I going? I didn’t know. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, and I was almost surely going to die.

 

-

 

     I was tied to a chair, my hands bound and a cloth keeping me from being able to move my mouth. Two chairs were placed in front of me, where two figures were seated. A light illuminated the two figures, and the sight of the two other hostages stopped my heart. Amy and Nikki were tied up across from me, their bodies bruised and cut. Seeing how damaged they were sent a fire of rage through me. Who could have done this to them? Why would someone do it? A sob escaped through gritted teeth, muffled by the cloth covering my mouth. Next to them, I noticed, was another chair. This one was still hidden in the shadows, it’s occupant remaining a mystery. Off in the distance was the sound of footsteps hitting against the concrete floor, the light casting a huge shadow across the floor as the man stepped in between the chairs.

     Two-Face.

     He looked at me like a lion watched it's prey, the teeth that could still be covered with his lips bared like an animal.

     The former DA then turned to Amy, Nikki, and the stranger. “Now, my wondrous clown, would you like to see the man that fucked your wife?” Two-Face asked, looking over his shoulder to smirk at me. In his hand, he held a small remote. There were four switches on it, with three of them in the ‘on’ position. He pressed his thumb against the final one and pushed it up along with the other three. A second after, a light exploded over the third chair, revealing the final victim held captive by the chair.

     “Edward,” I howld, struggling against the ropes and cloth and duct tape that held me to the chair. “You no good dirty rotten- _oof!_ ” I boomed, my words being cut off by a fist connecting with my jaw.

     “ _SHUT UP!_ ” Two-Face exploded, his words echoing off of the walls, making him sound much louder than he must have been. My ears throbbed, making me close my eyes and groan softly. “This is my time to talk,” He warned, waving his gun in my face. I narrowed my eyes and growled softly, but otherwise stayed silent.

     “Please, just let us go,” Amy begged, tears running down her face like a river.

     “Sorry, bitch,” Two-Face hissed, the words rolling off his tongue like oil, “The coin gets to decide if you walk away. Digging in his pocket, Two-Face pulled out a coin, both sides identical. The only difference between the two was that one side was badly burnt, probably from the same thing that caused Harvey’s face to be badly damaged. What was it again? Acid? Fire? Who knew. He then shifted the gun and pointed it at Nikki. “Are you feeling lucky, little girl?” He asked, flipping the coin with his left hand, flipping it onto his right wrist, and looking at it with an almost satisfied grin. “I guess not,” He cackled, pulling the trigger. The bullet rocketed through the air and into her skull,  blood, bone, and brain matter exploding onto the wall behind them.

     “NIKKI!” I howled, my voice distorted by the cloth. Amy was screaming, Nigma watching on in horror as Two-Face shifted the gun towards Amy.

     “You can’t do this, please!” She begged, her voice hoarse and wavering, weak from screaming.

      The monster before them laughed, watching her carefully. “Why can’t I?” He asked boldly, as if he was standing on the top of the world.

     “Because I’m pregnant!”

     Edward and I both sucked in a breath of surprise, eyes wide in horror.  I shot a glance at Edward, which he returned with a glance of sorrow and guilt. _That bastard will pay_ , I vowed, struggling against the restraints.

     “Well,” Dent continued, “Let’s just see if the coin has any mercy.” He flipped the coin a second time, slapping it down on his wrist. A frustrated grunt escaped from his throat, one that sounded like a rabid dog. “Looks like you get to live,” He muttered, sidestepping so that he was standing in front of Nigma.

     Blue eyes met brown as Dent went to flip the coin again. This time though, he was unable to make the life or death move, because as Dent raised his gun to aim between Nigma’s eyes, the intellectually challenging criminal swung his hands from behind the chair and knocked the gun from Two-Face’s hands, sending it flying across the floor. With a well-aimed blow to the jaw, Dent fell to the floor, out cold.

     Moving behind Amy, he made quick work of untying the knots and carefully removing the tape. “Run,” I heard him say, then began walking over to me, giving me a careful look before moving behind me and undoing the knots. He pulled the cloth from my mouth while he was walking away, dropping it on the floor at my feet. Nigma glided across the room towards a door where his cane rested, his movements reminding me of a swan. He pulled the door open, grabbing the cane as he walked out, and slammed the door behind him.

     Amy stared at me, and even though Dent wasn’t a threat anymore, the tears still flowed down her face, her breath hitching like a dysfunctional lawnmower. “Pete, I’m so sorry,” She sobbed, leaning forward and wrapping her hands around her stomach.

     “Shut up, bitch,” I hissed, pushing up from the chair and walking over to my daughter. I searched the area for a sharp object, finally satisfied with a decent sized piece of class. Standing in front of my now deceased child, I gently grabbed her chin and put the glass in her mouth, pressing harder and harder as the flesh began to tear, still warm blood pouring down her face. I did the same thing to the other side of her face, stepping away and observing my work.

There sat my daughter, a large, bloody smile painting her face.


End file.
